


The Inquisitor's Throne

by fereldenpeach



Series: One-Shot Sexcerpts [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Breathplay, Dom!Cullen, Dom/sub, Edgeplay, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hair Pulling, Kink, Light BDSM, Light Choking, Rough Sex, Smut, Throne Sex, no dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-22 18:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12488448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fereldenpeach/pseuds/fereldenpeach
Summary: Cullen sat on the Inquisitor’s throne, barefoot and shirtless, his left elbow perched on the armrest and index finger dragging beneath his bottom lip in contemplation. An opened package lay across his lap—the paper and twine that had encased it left folded neatly and discarded on the floor to the side. He thumbed the small wooden box with his other hand, eyes out of focus, jaw loose, mulling over all of his secret intentions...And just when his thoughts had settled on a decision, another pair of bare feet appeared in his line of sight.  Cullen trailed his gaze up her slender neck, taking an only slightly longer moment to linger on her glistening lips before instantly flicking up to meet her gray-green eyes.“Hello, my love,” said Cullen, his voice low and thick with a hinting motive.A Tumblr prompt from @fadedforyou (Narath) and Anonymous





	The Inquisitor's Throne

**Author's Note:**

> This is not meant to be an educational or "how-to" fanfic. Always practice safe sex and NEVER try anything you've never done without doing your research first. 
> 
> Stay safe, fam. 
> 
> Note--if you are triggered by the tags above, **_do not read_**.

The Throne Room was quiet. Too quiet.

Even though it was nearly midnight, it was customary for Skyhold to still be abustle with messengers traveling the grounds, soldiers changing their shifts, and visiting nobles carrying out varying levels of debauchery into the wee hours of the morning. But ever since the Inquisition had defeated Corypheus, Skyhold had steadily dwindled to essential personnel—the wayfarers and refugees making the journey down the mountain to start their new lives—the nobles choosing to send their inquiries for the availability status of the Commander by raven rather than have their attempts at wooing him in person be continually rejected.

And there wasn’t a single soul in the room. 

Save the Commander.

Cullen sat on the Inquisitor’s throne, barefoot and shirtless, his left elbow perched on the armrest and index finger dragging beneath his bottom lip in contemplation. An opened package lay across his lap—the paper and twine that had encased it left folded neatly and discarded on the floor to the side. He thumbed the small wooden box with his other hand, eyes out of focus, jaw loose, mulling over all of his secret intentions. 

And just when his thoughts had settled on a decision, another pair of bare feet appeared in his line of sight. Delicate ankles branched into strong and sinewy calves to meet lean and muscled thighs. Lace crossed his gaze next, following the outline of hips and continuing upward to meet tight and stiffened nipples blushing beneath a white silken shift. Collarbones swept across her décolleté, and Cullen trailed his gaze up her slender neck, taking an _only_ _slightly_ longer moment to linger on her glistening lips before instantly flicking up to meet her gray-green eyes. 

“Hello, my love,” said Cullen, his voice low and thick with a hinting motive. 

Evelia stepped toward him, resting her hand upon his knee, and returned his greeting with a smile. 

“What keeps you from coming to bed, Cullen?”

They shared a beat of silence while he deliberated on how best to answer her question, and Cullen glanced around the hall. 

Their only companions were the crackling fires nestled within the rings at the foot of the stairs. No soldier nor spy lingered in the doorways—none that he could see or hear at the very least. Yet he listened for any signs of life behind the many closed doors, wondering whether or not someone would come calling should he act out his dark and perverse thoughts. Yet still, deep down, he did not care.

Settling on the ambiguity of silence, Cullen simply returned his lover’s smile and said nothing, to which she huffed with playful impatience. Evelia pitched her hand to fingertips upon his knee and slowly walked her touch along his thigh—her fingers creeping ever so close to his secret package. And just before even the brush of her skin could come in contact with the small, wooden box, Cullen snatched up her wrist and pulled her toward him. A dark and lustful urgency swept over him, and he settled her into his lap to cradle her against his body—one hand gliding along her throat to caress the breath hitching inward and to trace the erratic beat of her heart flowing in time with that of his own. 

Evelia dropped her head back, allowing him to bring his lips to the most exposed and vulnerable part of her body. And he kissed her there, sucked her there—the drag of his teeth heavy and intentional with a want and desire that still left him desperate for the taste of her flesh, her mouth, her cunt over and over again. His kiss was pointed along her neck, his lips were feathers beneath her jaw, his breath a hot and swirling steam in the shell of her ear. An intimate hunger pulsed from between them and permeated throughout the room. 

“Enjoying a bit of power, Commander?” Evelia managed to whisper.

Cullen licked at the quickened pulse of her neck before pulling away enough to look down into her face. A near gloat twisted his smirk from simply knowing that she had no inkling as to what his secret package contained. 

“Perhaps.” He tapped the lid of the wooden box and cleared his throat. “This arrived not long ago.”

“For me?” Evelia asked. 

“Mmhmm,” said Cullen, thumbing at the clasp and lifting it open.

A swath of crushed velvet silverite in color gleamed up at her and upon it lay a parchment bearing a familiar script with a coiled string of exotic black pearls surrounding it—the richness of each bead differing one from another like a collection of obsidian flashing in the refraction of flames. Evelia gasped and reached for the parchment while Cullen extracted the pearls, lifting them to drape and secure around her neck. 

“I saw you eyeing it in the shop when last we were in Val Royeaux,” he whispered, pressing kisses to her exposed shoulder. “I know you wouldn’t have bought it for yourself.”

“Cullen, thank you,“ Evelia slipped the necklace through her fingers and brought the pearls to her lips, rolling the smoothness along her plumping mouth. “But what’s this?”

She picked up the small, delicate piece of parchment and recognized the penmanship of her paramour. But the text was fragmented, staggered in such a way that it appeared deliberate. A poem? 

She cleared her throat. “I would touch you—”

“ _I would touch you, my lady,_ ” whispered Cullen, proceeding to snake his hands around her body—caressing curves, pinching peaks, and cascading downward to grip his hand between her already wet thighs. 

“ _Touch you with my lips, my tongue—_

_to taste the evening dew dropt down your elegant spine._

Cullen brushed the underside of her jaw with a hot lick of his tongue, dragging it along and curling upward to split her mouth, yet refrained from kissing her and instead whispered against her opened lips:

_“Touch you with my hands, my skin—_

_to feel your heart’s pleasurable tremble_

_from knowing_

_that thou art mine.”_

A moan drifted from Evelia’s lips, morphing into a heavy exhalation, praising his actions in even the air escaping her heaving chest. 

_“I would touch you, my love—_

_Touch you with my voice, my breath—_

_to hear from your mouth a desperate, enraptured whine._

“Yes,” she whispered, letting the parchment of which his poem was writ tumble aimlessly to the floor. Her hands clamored to pull him from the band of his trousers, and she fiddled with the ties to instantly plunge in—wrapping her fingers around his already hot, thick, and throbbing cock.

_“Touch you with my mind, my soul—ah—“_ Cullen continued, breaking momentarily to release a broken moan of his own.

_“—to protect and worship, love and deprave_

He grasped at her face, hooking her chin with a gentle swipe of his thumb to force her to look at him. She locked eyes with his—gray-green irises flashing and matching the desire swirling within his amber ones.

_“because, darling_

_thou art mine.”_

Cullen surged forward, capturing her plump, reddened lips within his own in a flurry of tongues and teeth, his hips lifting into her hand as she pumped and twisted him, not caring should a kitchen hand or soldier or colleague happen upon their sudden and libidinous tryst.He groped at her opened thighs, working his way beneath her shift and gliding his thumb over her clit before plunging two of his fingers into her wet and aching heat. 

Evelia gasped, her motions stopping momentarily to revel in the satisfying _stretch_ as she conformed to his body.

“Maker,” Cullen whispered, completely in awe of how he never ceased to send her dripping. It hadn’t mattered that they’d spent the better part of nearly three years craving one another with a need that could never be sated. What rare and precious time they had alone was almost always intimate, whether it be in shared and innocent proximity at dinner or secret touches beneath their table, or fast and hard sex over the bed, on the floor, against the balcony railing. He could never get enough of her, nor she, him. 

“By Andraste, Cullen…” she swore back. 

He withdrew his fingers and brought them to light upon her lips where they glistened and glinted in the firelight. And Evelia knew what he wanted—knew that the secret carnality of the man who had ensnared her was just as intense as the seasoned warrior who had earned the title of Commander, and every single dark and unholy thought and act that had crossed his mind had not been one in which he had shared in alone. 

“You don’t need a throne to be powerful,” said Evelia.

With a flash of pink, Evelia’s tongue darted out to taste—her free hand clasping at his wrist as she suckled her own juices from his fingers. Cullen groaned with both satisfaction and impatience at the sight, watching as she cleaned his index finger with her lips tightening along his digit as she extracted it in favor of cleaning his middle finger all the same. 

Without hesitation, he pulled her flush against his body, the hardness of his cock prodding into her belly and smearing droplets against silk.

“No, my lady,” he breathed. “Yet, every power in the realm could be mine and I would still be bent to your will—” Cullen buried his face between her breasts, licking at the trickling sweat dripping over her flushed skin. He inhaled her deeply—the taste of salt mixed with the fragrance of jasmine and honeysuckle, caramel and praline—he couldn’t get enough of it, so he trailed his tongue higher—slipping over the string of pearls and moving along her throat where he nibbled and lapped at her until his face was turned upward and left wanting.

Evelia obliged, bringing her mouth down to his and cradling his face—enjoying the harsh prickle of his stubble along her soft palms while grinding her hips into him as hard as she could. She exchanged the flavor on her tongue for the delicious taste of his mouth, swallowing Cullen's groans before he continued. 

“—because I know what you love for me to do to you, and it’s yours.” His voice was dark, rumbly, thick with desire. “All you need do—”

“Yes…” she breathed.

“— _is ask_.”

Cullen slid his hands down her body—obscene and desperate grasps that dug into the landscape of her flesh to leave not one curve untouched. And once they finally reached the trim of lace at the edge of her sweat-drenched shift, he gripped at her hips and turned her around. 

“ _Yes_ …” said Evelia, a cry for mercy and relief from the painful ache more than anything else. She arched her back, hips wiggling along the hard line of his length while reclining into him and letting her quiet yet urgent request slip on a moan. 

“ _Fuck me_.” 

Cullen tugged down his trousers, finally freeing himself from the constraints of his clothing. One arm slithered around her lower belly while sending the other to scale upward to lightly grip her throat, and he pulled her back down onto his lap—the tip of his cock prodding into the shallows of her warm and quivering cunt. 

“What was that, love?” he teased, his breath swirling hot into her ear. 

“Fuck me, Cullen! Fuck m— _oh_!“

A sharp gasp burst into her lungs as soon as he snapped his hips upward and the splay of his hand pressed downward. His hot and rigid cock split her center, gliding through her dripping heat with incredible ease. Cullen rolled into her, his hardened thighs and firm ass flexing with each slow drag and deliciously forceful thrust as he lifted from his seated position. 

“You want me to fuck you?” he growled, nuzzling into her hair before grazing his teeth along her cheek.

“ _Unh_ —Uh huh,” she said, scrambling for purchase at the stone armrests of her throne.

His motions were careful, intentional—wanting her to _feel_ every breath that cascaded along her love-slick skin—every movement as his body worked within her in the most sacred way possible during his brazen act of power. Cullen folded forward to nuzzle along her shoulder, the tip of his nose and his barely-there touch of his lips brushing her skin before sinking his teeth into the meat of her flesh and lapping along a divot of muscle with his tongue. 

A cry of ecstasy left Evelia’s lips in a slur of affirmations, and she pressed her hips further into him, urging him to cease his steady and rhythmic pumping in favor of something _harder_ , more _erratic_ , more _forceful_ —desperate for his unbridled relentlessness unleashed upon her body. She _needed_ it—an intense and hurried release to ease the ache hitching within and slowly climbing yet refraining from reaching the precipice fast enough for her liking. She slid her hand down between her thighs, splitting her fingers along her folds to grip at his cock and she _squeezed_ in defiance, fully expecting a retaliation.

Cullen chuckled, cutting his fingers through the length of her hair before fisting it and yanking downward to expose her chin to the ceiling. Evelia’s laugh was broken but triumphant nonetheless. 

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you?” he asked, the sultry tones of his timbre erupting goosebumps across his paramour’s skin. 

“That’s what I asked of you,” she said, the notes of her laughter still chiming along her words. “So, why aren’t you doing it?”

His laugh darkened into a rumble, causing Evelia’s heartbeat to skip and her inner walls to clench around the hardened thick of his cock. Cullen sent both his hands to settle around her delicate neck—crossing and overlapping so the rough sides of his hands scratched across her collarbones and his thumbs encouraged her chin to remain turned toward the ceiling. 

“This is what you want?” he purred. 

“ _Yes_. Fuck me, Cullen. Don't make me be—”

Cullen cut off her words with a gentle tug—only enough so his lover responded and bowed her back, curving the strong pillar of her spine from the base nestled into his dark and dampened curls until the crown of her head met his chest so his plump and eager lips could kiss her glinting brow. She was bent to perfection, his body hot and solid within her, extending from himself and returning like the beautiful curve of the crescent moon. 

Keeping one hand on her throat, he hooked an arm behind her back in the hollow between them, securing her arms in an attempt to steady her. For as soon as he reset his footing, he slid from her until his head just barely seated within before snapping up and _pounding_ her with the relentlessness that she so desperately craved. 

Flesh smacked against flesh with each thrust—the sound mixing with that of heaving breaths tied to encouraging moans and groans reverberating against the empty hall bereft of any soul save the lecherous lovers exchanging their roles in power. Their voices bounced back—lewd and crass and arousing—and Evelia cried out for her paramour by endearment, by name, by title until he gave her _exactly_ what she wanted, _exactly_ how she wanted it. She was helpless, left only in his hands as he sent his cock high up into her over and over and over again—his pelvis driving against her hips to the point her flesh jolted with the shock of his force. 

Cullen glanced down to watch as both her body reacted to his motions and his cock disappeared into the depths of her exquisitely _tight_ and _dripping_ cunt. He closed his eyes and brought his lips to her forehead, pressing kisses to her temple, her eyelids, and he continued his conquest and service to pleasure her in every sense of the word. 

And suddenly Evelia’s fingers wrapped around the hand bound to her throat and her actions caused his own heart to tumble with nervousness—but a piercing arousal flashed through him and nearly sent him over the edge for half a moment.

Because she _squeezed_. Squeezed his fingers along the sides of her neck to softly dig into the blood flowing beneath his touch. 

Had they not previously discussed this level of breathplay, he would have been alarmed, but their dirty letters to one another across the course of the Inquisition had given opportunity to detail each and every dark and unusual desire, and her casual mentioning of it the night before was all the encouragement he needed. And so he obliged, slowly pressing along the sides of her throat with expert precision _just_ enough to prompt her journey to euphoria. 

Cullen continue ravaging her while paying keen attention to her motions, watching as she stared up at him from upside down. Her lashes fluttered and brow crinkled, and he knew without a doubt that she was about to come. _Hard_. 

The light pulsing around his cock tightened and Evelia slid her fingers beneath the grip of his hands, loosening enough for air. And as soon as the blood rushed through her veins, her orgasm exploded in a blinding light—her cunt pulling and throttling his cock as he fucked her as hard as he could manage without sending himself into his own intense bliss. 

Evelia clawed at Cullen’s sides, searching to grip for something to keep her stable while wave after wave beat against him and tingled electric throughout her extremities as she cascaded down from her unimaginable high. And Cullen growled, finally pulling her from her bent position so his dripping chest melded to her back. His mouth sought hers, and he hooked her jaw to finally taste her mouth, plunging his tongue in to feel her live and quickened breath against his own. 

Her taste was his lyrium, her moans drifting on sighs against his lips was his song. This woman who had stolen away every shred of his war-torn and embattled heart was beyond what he could ever have imagined for himself. And he knew without a doubt that she trusted him more than any other soul in the world, and he felt the exact same for her. 

“How are you, darling?” 

Cullen smoothed his hands around her waist, hugging her to him while still remaining inside of her. 

“That was amazing,” she said with a blissful sigh. 

Yet she peeled away from him to let him slip out and she turned around to face him. Her kiss was hungry, ravaging—never quite getting enough of the man who had stolen away her heart. And when finally her shudder seemed to subside, Evelia cupped his face to kiss—her nails rasping through his stubble—and Cullen smiled against her plump lips. Those gray-green eyes flicked up at him, and his warm, amber ones stared back with a wicked glint. 

“Sit, Commander. Please?” she whispered. 

With a subtle jerk of his head, Cullen’s brow quirked and his scar lifted inquisitively, yet he sat—his cock lolling to the side and bobbing momentarily with an interested twitch as he stared at his reddened and nearly naked lover. 

Evelia stepped up, climbing on top of his lap to settle her feet against the inner sides of the arm rests, waiting for him to grasp his cock and hilt himself into her and claim her body there atop her throne. He wrapped his fingers around the base and tugged—his thick, glimmering cock on full display—and he slid his head up and down throughout her slick flesh until finally positioning himself exactly where she wanted. 

She slowly eased all the way down with a moan until her folds spread flush against his hardened body. 

And Cullen groaned as he watched. 

The angle was _deep_ —penetrating her more fully—and Cullen could have come just from that alone. 

But he sat forward to hold her in his arms—gliding them down and grasping handfuls of her firm ass to pull forward, rocking her to move within her, the tip of his cock grazing against her hot center, his shaft completely consumed by her silky and delectable heat. Evelia moved with him, her hips grinding into his lap, her clit tingling as it brushed through his dark curls. 

“Mmm.” Cullen pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “I’ll never get used to how perfect you feel,” he said, his heart wandering about and flowing freely on his words. 

“Like we were made for one another,” Evelia said, tracing lines along his jaw, his lips. 

“I love you, Ev.”

Evelia smiled, leaned forward, and kissed him. “I love you, too,” she said, her hands gliding up his glistening chest to weave through his dampened hair. 

And Cullen closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation, the swirling breath, the moans and sighs leaving his lover’s lips. He slid one broad hand around her waist and up to her chest where he kneaded and squeezed and pinched at her tight and flushed nipples before continuing upward still—his fingers slipping around the beaded necklace until it traveled along with him to roll up her throat and land at the split of her mouth. Evelia opened her lips to let the beads land between her teeth and dance upon her tongue.

“Suck,” said Cullen, his eyes reopening and lustful as he watched Evelia’s tongue glide around the beads’ smooth surface. His fingers trailed to the spot of thenecklace at the nape of her neck and he pulled it taut—her flesh pressed inward at the corners of her smirking mouth.

She picked up her pace, hips lifting and rolling as she rode him, watching as his jaw stiffened, his teeth slightly bared. And he surged forward to kiss her—his tongue swirling around the string of beads in search of her own. And just as soon as he began fucking her back—his abdomen flexing with each upward thrust—Evelia’s fingers that had laced into his hair curled inward and she _pulled_. 

Cullen roared and loosed her necklace to lift her from her throne, partially standing so he could fuck her as hard as he could—the pain from his scalp twirling along each nerve with such pleasure, intensifying the throb from within as he came in long, hot spurts, emptying out every single bit of himself deep within her. Evelia released her grasp and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, the slick of his skin making it difficult to keep her grip—and so he held her, cradling her against himself and nuzzling between her sweaty breasts, licking and growling and laughing until he turned up to find her smiling and laughing along with him.

He eased back to sit and Evelia cupped his face, smoothing her thumb through a line dripping from his brow.

“Made for one another,” he reaffirmed on a heavy breath.

“Mmhmm,” she replied, leaning forward to taste his mouth once more. She clutched at her necklace, fingers working over and under as she studied her new gift. “Thank you.” A wicked grin spread her lips, one that Cullen met in equal measure.

“At your service, Inquisitor,” he said with a chuckle and clapped his hands to her ass. “To bed?”

“To bed.” 

With a comical groan, Evelia stood from his lap and stretched her aching limbs. She smoothed the wet and bunched silken shift over her body—eyes going wide as soon as her stomach let out a growl and she clutched at her rumbling belly. “I _am_ a bit famished though—let’s raid the kitchen first.”

Cullen stood from the throne and hitched his trousers to hang loose about his hips. He let out an incredulous laugh and immediately sent his hand in search of the muscles bunched between his shoulder blades. “Like this? You must be joking.”

Evelia shrugged. “Come on, Commander, no one will see. It’s not like you’ve not streaked across the grounds before.”

“Ack—that was just across the battlements and my bed was still above my office. Stalking through the castle _like_ _this_ is hardly similar.” He gestured toward his sticky, glimmering body and the slick-stained spots on his trousers.

Evelia swatted at his statement and shrugged once more. “I think you’re fine. Let’s go.” She turned toward the hallway leading to the kitchen, but Cullen banded an arm around her waist before she could get too far.

“Clean clothes first, woman. Then you can have whatever you want.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. :) 
> 
> Cullen's poem inspired by naughty poetry from [e.e. cummings](https://www.thedailybeast.com/ee-cummings-erotic-drawings#slide1)
> 
> Fic partially inspired by [OBESØN - Drowning](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GL9OzPY4byQ)
> 
>  
> 
> [fereldenpeach.tumblr.com](https://fereldenpeach.tumblr.com)


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